


Visible World

by dollydoodledoo



Category: Code Geass
Genre: Angst, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Zero Requiem, but only vaguely implied
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-16
Updated: 2020-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:21:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23177638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dollydoodledoo/pseuds/dollydoodledoo
Summary: He wonders what Lelouch is thinking of. As he stares intently out the window, does he contemplate the fate of the world in his— their— hands? Maybe he thinks of names— Nunnally, Euphemia, Shirley, Marianne, and… perhaps, Suzaku, as well.Maybe he thinks of his death, ever-nearing, as set in stone as he would want it.In which it takes nothing less than impending demise for Lelouch and Suzaku to have a conversation.
Relationships: Kururugi Suzaku/Lelouch Lamperouge | Lelouch vi Britannia
Comments: 3
Kudos: 68





	Visible World

Lelouch stands facing the huge window, his frame cutting a shadow through the stream of light. He stands decked in every ceremonial finery held by the Emperor of Britannia. Beneath every robe and jewel and padding, you can hardly make out the narrow line of his shoulders— the scrawny build of a horrendously unfit eighteen-year-old boy.

Suzaku sits on the sofa behind him, his leg bouncing with nervous energy. They are silent.

It really is a huge window, Suzaku thinks (his nervous brain latching onto whatever it can), slightly taller than Lelouch and far wider. And it’s unnecessarily ornate— set in a gilded frame and engraved with representations of exalted royal figures. Subtlety was a concept little known to Britannians.

He wonders what Lelouch is thinking of. As he stares intently out the window, does he contemplate the fate of the world in his— their— hands? Maybe he thinks of names— Nunnally, Euphemia, Shirley, Marianne, and… perhaps, Suzaku, as well.

Maybe he thinks of his death, ever-nearing, as set in stone as he would want it.

“Lelouch,” Suzaku says, unable to stand the weight of silence any longer, and again when he doesn’t respond, “Lelouch.”

“What is it?” Says Lelouch, without turning. Suzaku does not know who this refusal to meet eyes is for— himself or him.

He hates it. Surprisingly, ironically, because after everything he should hate Lelouch’s eyes on him, not vice versa.

“Why aren’t you saying anything?” Suzaku asks.

A scoff, “I’m going to die tomorrow. I think the time for words has passed.”

Suzaku almost wants to laugh— never had he thought he would hear Lelouch say that (Lelouch, who has talked himself into the proverbial heaven and back) and yet there was no more fitting time to say it.

“Why are you wearing… that?” He gestures to the lavish garb.

Lelouch finally turns around and there’s nothing, nothing, in his face that would betray his feelings on his fate. His face holds no expression, yet somehow manages to be haughty and disdainful.

“So many questions. Don’t you know it’s treason for a knight to question their emperor?”

Lelouch crosses the space between them, until he is looming over Suzaku. Suzaku is tempted to stand, but he does not want to give Lelouch the satisfaction.

“Maybe,” Lelouch gestures to his clothing, “I want to admire the clothes I’ll die in. I want to make sure I’ll be a handsome corpse.”

When Suzaku says nothing, Lelouch brings his hand up to ever so gently touch his cheek, more of a graze of the fingertips than a caress, and lets it linger for a moment before falling. Suzaku, inadvertently, inexplicably, catches it (because he is weak

and without morals or a spine, ask anyone.) 

It takes a long moment for him to realize the gesture was akin to wiping away tears. Strange— he had not been crying. He is not _that_ much of a hypocrite, to shed tears over this, and Lelouch _is_ that much of a hypocrite, to think that he would.

“Lelouch.” He means to spit out the name like a curse, but it does not nearly come out that way. His voice catches on the end and, to his dawning horror, sounds like a _plea_.

“Are you not prepared? Perhaps you should also put on your costume and we can... rehearse our final act.” Lelouch’s tone is mocking, but it does not match the wretched, damnable tenderness in his eyes.

Suzaku wants to punch him, but settles for squeezing his hand until his own knuckles go white.

“Are you sure about this?” The question falls from his lips before he can stop it, before he can be bewildered by his thinking of it.

“I’m surprised.” Lelouch said, not sounding surprised at all, the bastard. “You were the one who told me to be strong. Are you wavering, my knight?”

“ _Wavering?_ ” Suzaku, suddenly furious, stands, forcing Lelouch to take a step back. “Don’t act like you’re so above this, Lelouch. Death won’t absolve you. It can’t.”

The other boy’s gaze hardens, “How about you stop acting like you’re so removed from this? Zero Requiem is not meant to be an absolution. It’s a punishment, _our_ punishment.”

Suzaku stares right into Lelouch’s eyes— horrible, monstrous eyes that saved him and killed countless others. He wants to hate him. He _did_ hate him, once, more than anything, more than anyone would have thought possible. But somewhere along the line, somewhere between Lelouch and Zero and the 99th Emperor of the Holy Britannian Empire, somewhere Suzaku stopped trying to draw the line between hate and every other sentiment.

“You can’t be having second thoughts—“

“I’m not—“

“Are you scared?”

God, it’s like Lelouch makes an effort to think of the absolute _worst_ thing to say in any situation.

“I’m not _scared_.” Says Suzaku, desperation thinly disguised as vitriol.

“It’s okay if you are.” Lelouch says as he attempts to reach for Suzaku, only for the other to push his hand away. He continues, unperturbed, his voice murmured, “It’s okay. There’s no one— there’s no one watching right now.”

Suzaku doesn’t even need to guess at his meaning because, at that moment, Lelouch takes his face in his hands (reverently, like he is something precious) and presses their lips together.

They’ve kissed before-- not _before_ , but prior to this. Kissed and more. _Incidents_ , in Suzaku’s mind. Lapses in their carefully wrought self-control caused by heated emotions and the unspoken consensus between them that after all they had done, this was nothing. Just another sentence in a confession neither of them would make.

But this, _this_ is different. The pressure of Lelouch’s lips is gentle and achingly tender, and the onslaught of emotions it brings is so fierce it’s nearly painful.

“Stop.” He commands (begs), and Lelouch pulls back just a few inches, enough for their eyes to meet. And Suzaku wants to push him away, Suzaku wants to pull him closer, Suzaku wants to wrap his hands around his throat and squeeze and let it end, Suzaku wants him to be safe from everything but mostly himself, Suzaku wants and he wants and he wants and he wants.

It terrifies him; it disgusts him. He has doomed himself to this— a life of desire and the revulsion that comes with it. For this (for wanting this), he hates himself more than anything.

When Lelouch draws back fully, they are both trembling. 

“I’m--” Lelouch inhales sharply, and it’s one of the few (and last, probably) times Suzaku clearly sees weakness in him, “I am not going to say that I wish things could be different--”

“Because it would be another lie.” Suzaku interjects, not harshly, but not gently either.

“No. Because it would be a disservice to us both.” A thick swallow. “But I am going to say... I’m sorry that it has to be this way.”

If Suzaku possessed half of Lelouch’s wit, a thousand replies, each more cutting and bitter than the last, could have come to his mind. If he possessed half of Nunnally’s compassion, some small but meaningful words of comfort could have. And if he possessed any of Shirley’s courage, he could have brought himself to embrace Lelouch.

But he doesn’t. Such is the ugly truth about himself: a coward, too weak to admit that, even through and after everything, he still… he still…

“Will you stay with me?” Lelouch asks.

Lelouch who, with a single word, made certain that Suzaku’s choices were irrelevant now asks Suzaku to make a choice. 

Suzaku wonders where this new and sudden consideration comes from. Is it the prospect of death that erased the rift between them? Between the privileged and the marginalized, the geass-holder and mere mortal, the false revolutionary and the sanctimonious traitor, the emperor and the knight. Does none of it matter anymore because Lelouch is going to die and Suzaku will be forced to live on?

“Of course I’ll stay,” says Suzaku. Maybe it’s not about courage or compassion or wit or even death; maybe it's about something more than that. Something like love. 

He wraps his arms around him and, after a moment of tension, Lelouch does the same.


End file.
